The Foster Girls #2: Finland

Chapter 7: Finland

Dominic was due any moment to pick me up for the promised, and highly-anticipated (not!) getting-to-know-you evening with Camille, in which she and I would bond and become besties. I'm sure that's the scenario Dominic envisioned. A more likely scenario in my mind was me dumping my glass of water on her, shanking her with my fork and declaring Dominic mine in no uncertain terms. Basically, I was looking forward to this evening like you might look forward to giving birth to a twenty-five pound baby.

That is to say, not at all.

When the knock came on the door, I hung up with Elizabeth, who had been telling me about her hockey player. She'd also been making me laugh at her renaming Camille to The Bitch Queen From Hell and promising to work her into the next video game she created as a super villain. Still laughing, I opened the door to Dominic.

And Camille. Dainty, exquisitely beautiful, red-headed perfection.

We were supposed to be meeting her at the restaurant. Why was she here?

Dominic leaned down and gave me a kiss on my lips. "Hey, Gorgeous. You look fantastic."

"Oh my god, Nic, you need some new lines," Camille said as she strutted into my apartment. "You've used that one a million times."

"Ignore her," he told me with an indulgent smile, completely missing that she'd just gone on the attack with me, completely unprovoked...unless my mere existence in his life was enough provocation, which I strongly suspected it was.

"Hi, I'm Finland," I said to her, trying to be polite. "It's nice to meet you."

"Camille," she said. Bitch Queen From Hell might not be descriptive enough.

"I need to fix my contact," Dominic told me, pressing another kiss to my lips. "I'll be right back."

Then he left me with her.

"So, Ireland, how long have you lived here?"

Seriously? Pretending not to remember my name? Honey, I was a foster child -- you're going to have to work a lot harder than that. "I've been here a little over a year."

"Nic said you were a writer or something?"

"Yes."

"Have you written anything I've heard of?"

No. I don't write picture books for beginning readers.

"Not unless you're into romances."

"Oh." And there it was. The look of judgment. Romance writers were not real authors. 

"Well, maybe you can branch into other genres when you get more experience."

Sweetheart, I sold my first story at 19. What were you doing then, besides sponging off of Dominic?

"I'll stick with romances."

Then she smirked at me and I braced. Dominic, how long can it take to fix your freaking contact?  "So, are you and Nic...serious?"

Implying that I was just a passing fling for him.

"Very," I said.

"You know he was married to my sister? Lisette was his once-in-a-lifetime love, his soulmate."

Not if she was as soulless as you.

"Well, some people are fortunate enough to find love more than once in their lives, especially when they lose their first loves at such a young age."

"Nic told you he's in love with you?"

There was something in her narrowed eyes that I wouldn't understand until much later. Something secretive, knowing.